Page 139 of Wings of Lies
“I put her in school,” my mom said, holding his gaze.
“You didwhat?”
“She still trains every other day, and we keep her powers suppressed. She needs socialization and to be with kids her age.” she pleaded. A plea that my father ignored. There was no way she’d have a conversation about his abuse now.
He stood, napkin slapping the table, fork clattering against his white plate. “You knew the deal we agreed upon.” Each sound out of his mouth was a step in her direction. The blush in her cheeks faded to an ugly white fear.
“You will take her out of school. You will move. She is not allowed to associate with the creatures of Earth, or else I will take you both to The Council of Righteousness.”
The whites of my mom’s eyes were wide with horror. I didn’t know what The Council of Righteousness was, but it wouldn’t be good for us.
Red flushed my father’s face in his rage. “She should’ve never been born,” he spat, latching onto her upper arm. “Look what your selfishness did to us!” The echoes of his bellows were a shock to our systems.
Faster than I’d ever seen my mom move, she stood and slapped my father, sending him stumbling back. My eyebrows raised in surprise, not because my mom couldn’t hit. My mom did the training my father always spoke of. She was well-versed in the art of war from her previous life, yet she never used it against my father.
Until today.
Shining flame overtook the deep gray of his eyes. The air deadened as it pulled toward his fury. Ears popping, the pressure changed and turned to a brilliant white flame on his hands—Glory, like mine and my mom’s.
In the book I stole from my mom, I read Angelic Glory only had one purpose and one purpose only.
To burn away evil without mercy. To snuff out life. It consumed the object, burning brighter and hotter than any flame created on Earth. Another translation in the angelic texts was Heavenly Virtue. It’s what singed my stuffed animals not once but twice.
This “Heavenly Virtue” was pointed in the direction of my mom.
My heart dropped to my feet, and a new feeling crawled under my skin. He wanted to eradicate the only good thing in my world.
His flame shot out with a flick of his wrist, and I screamed as the ball of fire changed directions. It would’ve never hit her, even if she hadn’t moved. And she did move, faster than my eyes could follow, barreling into me and knocking us to the floor. The large ball of flame disintegrated into particles of light.
My father didn’t want to kill my mom. Only me.
“She will be taken to the Council of Righteousness, and we will finally take care of your mistake. We will see if you told me the truth all those years ago.” The words echoed in their absoluteness.
His words should’ve broken me. Instead, they fueled my bitter hatred toward him. No matter what I did, he never gave me any love or warmth. If I turned back time to when I was seven, when I still hoped I’d receive my father’s affection, then I’d be a crying heap on the floor. But ever since he hit me, an untethered seed of hate grew with each encounter. The fact that he wanted to punish my mom for creating and loving me made me realize I was capable of deep loathing.
The air around me deadened. My ears popped, and my mom’s hands erupted in the same white light.
“Over my dead body.” She stood, acting as a barrier between me and him.
“There will only be one dead body at the end of this. And darling, it won’t be yours unless you’re found guilty again.” My father threw a white ball of flame at her face. She dodged it, realizing too late it was a distraction. Blurring behind her, he grasped her hair and yanked her to the ground right before slamming her head against the floorboards, knocking her out cold.
Rage burned through me.How dare he.Tasting copper, I let my cheeks go and clenched my teeth instead, glaring up at his face as I sat on the ground. I hated him. From the tops of his buzzed blond hair all the way to his pristine white shoes. My soul cried out for revenge to make him hurt as much as he made us hurt. The seed of hate blossomed into something tangible. An itch I never felt before scattered across my hands, and a coldness invaded my mind.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” My father pointed to my mom like I caused her unconsciousness.
And what do we have here?
I jerked. “What?” Not sure where that voice came from.
My father’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me repeat myself!”
Not out there. I’m in here.It felt like a frozen finger dragged down the inner workings of my head as the male spoke.
In my mind?I asked, shuddering.
Yes. What’s your name?he asked.
Lucille. Who are you?
